


Descent

by wastedonyoursmile



Series: A series of unfortunate events (or thank god that happened) [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, M/M, Meet-Cute, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prompt Fic, Tags Are Hard, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-20 19:29:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18531637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wastedonyoursmile/pseuds/wastedonyoursmile
Summary: He's a sopping mess when he gets home. He strips the second he's through the door, leaves it all right there on the floor and goes right to bed and pulls his comforter over his head. He's too jittery. His brain a mess. He flops around in bed and growls at nothing. He flops around a bit more, restless energy tugging at his skin.“Now would be a good time to-- what the fuck? Okay.” As if by command thunking starts up above him. He kicks off his covers and thinks,just this once.





	Descent

**Author's Note:**

> I'm spiraling. Idk. So a quick short reminder of what I'm doing. Prompt exercises of 500-1,500 words, posted quickly after writing with little editing in effort to get myself to both write and actually post and not deliberate until I delete everything.
> 
> I haven't written porn in a while, I hope I'm not too rusty.
> 
> The prompt I'm working from is always at the end notes.

The first time it happens Stiles is on his way to work, he's passing through his bedroom to grab his lanyard when he notices a questionable squeaking from the apartment above his. “Awesome,” he mutters on his way to the door, face flushing against his will. He got new neighbors just yesterday. He never had any problems with Daniel, his previous upstairs neighbor.

He forgets about it until he gets home. He's striping his suit off on his way to his room for some shorts and hears the shuffle of feet above him. They must have changed the flooring when Daniel moved out. This is just fucking perfect. But he just shakes his head and goes about his night.

 

∆∆∆

 

Two nights later he's curled up under his comforter with his tablet when the noise starts. He scoffs and turns his attention back to the article he's reading about NASA. He tunes it out quite well until the squeaking really gets going, then he sighs and flops back on his pillows. At least he can't hear any moaning.

 

∆∆∆

 

He runs into Alison in the hall the next day at work and asks if she knows anything about the new couple who moved in to the building since she lives a handful of doors down from them.

“Couple? Oh, no, there's just Derek. He's super sweet. He's a writer who runs a bookshop down on Main. You should really meet him, I think you guys would hit it off.” She pats his arm with her brilliant dimpled smile in place.

“I don't mean to be nosy,” Alison laughs and gives him a knowing look. “Okay, genuine nosy bastard here, but is he… Does he… have people over often?” He's not even sure why he's asking, it's just kinda wriggling around in his brain.

“Oh, not really. Just his sisters once. He's kinda shy, I think, and likes to keep to himself. Salina is giving me the death glare, gotta run,” then she's fluttering down the hall finger waving him goodbye with a little giggle.

Derek. Just Derek. Okay, new information to process.

 

∆∆∆

 

He's lounging in bed on Saturday night watching the end of episode one of Misfits, the Sheehan version (the only version worth watching in his opinion) when the creaking starts upstairs.

“Not now,” he mutters and turns up the volume for his ear buds. He takes them out five minutes later and holy god how can the whole floor not hear that.

So here's the thing, okay? He's a healthy male with a healthy libido. Things… affect him. Sometimes things he rather wouldn't. Whatever. It's a natural human response to flush all over and get warm.

He kicks off his sheets and huffs.

He twiddles his fingers.

He stares at his ceiling.

There's an abrupt noise from above and then everything stops.

_Fuck this_ , he thinks, he's gonna go for a run.

 

∆∆∆

 

Friday he and his dad meet up for lunch at Murphy's diner. Which happens to be on Main. He happens to walk by The Word of Hale Bookshop. He happens to see a gorgeous man in thick rimmed black glasses and a lumberjack beard wearing a cardigan working at the register. He happens to die on the spot.

 

∆∆∆

 

Three weeks later Thursday happens.

_Thursday._

Thursday is a fucking disaster. His car breaks down on the way to work, so he has to walk the rest of the way and get his car towed with money he doesn't have; and fixed in the same manner. His boss berates him for fuck knows what, seriously he still doesn't know what the fuck that was about. He spills coffee on his nicest dress shirt right before the last meeting of the day with their biggest client. The elevator gets stuck between the second and third floor. For two goddamn hours. And of all fucking things it starts pouring out of fucking nowhere on the walk home. _It's fucking July_.

He's a sopping mess when he gets home. He strips the second he's through the door, leaves it all right there on the floor and goes right to bed and pulls his comforter over his head. He's too jittery. His brain a mess. He flops around in bed and growls at nothing. He flops around a bit more, restless energy tugging at his skin.

“Now would be a good time to-- what the fuck? Okay.” As if by command thunking starts up above him. He kicks off his covers and thinks, _just this once_.

He stretches out and tunes his ears to above him, trying to pick up any other noises. He runs his hands over his clammy chest, swirls circles over his stomach, toys with his nipples until they're tight and have that perfect ache; letting himself slowly work up tension in his body. He's just starting to picture what he imagines is going on above him when there's a loud thunk and a winded 'fuck’, but it doesn't seem to stop Derek. And now Stiles can hear him moaning, hear his knees shuffling against the floor. Is he fucking himself on something? Oh God let him be fucking himself on something.

Stiles doesn't even know when he started touching himself but with each curse from Derek his hips are bucking up on the bed, hand fisted tight around his cock. There's a loud whine from above and then Derek is pleading, begging to be fucked and Stiles has never worked himself so fast, body twisting so he can bite the sheets. He's damn near sobbing with the need to come.

There's a noise above, a noise Stiles can't even describe but it has him coming so hard so fast it's like whiplash. There are literal tears in his eyes.

 

∆∆∆

 

He runs into Derek in the little mailroom the following morning. It's one of those weird slow motion moments when he opens the door to enter and Derek's turning to leave, there's mere inches between them and their eyes lock and it's just...

He can't help from flushing a deep violent red, a hot feeling of shame coursing through him. He ducks his head and scratches at the back of his neck. 

Chancing a glance up he sees Derek is just as scarlet as Stiles himself.

Derek catches his eyes again and clears his throat. “I, um. We, um, haven't officially met. But I, uh, I'm pretty sure that, um, you heard me last night and I, well, I heard you and--”

“You heard me?” Stiles whispers, his mouth dropping open.

“Yeah. And I'll say I'm sorry and sincerely mean it if you want me to, but I have to be honest with you. That was one of the hottest things I've experienced in my whole life. I've,” leaning in he brings his mouth centimeters away from touching Stiles ear, “I've never come that hard in my life.” His nose brushes the shell of Stiles ear and then he's pulling back.

Stiles’ whole body visibly trembles. He looks Derek in the eyes and tells him he did, too, and then pulls Derek in and kisses him. Hot and dirty and frantic. He's got Derek pushed up against the bay of mailboxes when the door clicks open and old lady Hela walks in. She looks at them, Stiles with his shirt half untucked and Derek with his glasses hanging precariously off his ear and shakes her head, “If I was twenty years younger…”

They make a run for it.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: My neighbour has a really squeaky bed and my bedroom is below theirs


End file.
